


Speaking into the Void

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Carlos is sassy, Cecil Is Not Subtle, Cecil is Human, Don't Read This, Language, M/M, Pre-Slash, References to Canon, Scientist Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), so messy, the timeline is messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work is based off one of my less...plausible...headcanons, because Cecil is always so casual when he's talking about these horrible events, and so I thought, maybe none of this is actually happening. Which turned into Cecil the street busker who earns a living by telling random passerby stories on the sidewalk. Please excuse the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking into the Void

"A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and strange lights pass over head while we all pretend to sleep," Cecil paused, feeling his lips curve into a wicked smile. This was going to be good. He could feel it in his bones. "Welcome to Night Vale."

Cecil was well aware that what he did for a living was more than a little unconventional. A strange guy in a vest sitting on the sidewalk, talking about strange events going on in an even stranger fictional community? Well, in most other places, he'd have been run out of town. Possibly being chased by angry villagers with pitchforks and burning torches. Okay, so maybe his imagination was a bit overactive. But that was what made him so good at what he did.

And that was his favorite part about living in a university town. No matter what he talked about, someone had invariable seen or heard weirder. And people here were really supportive of the arts, especially the college students. It wasn't exactly easy. But Cecil managed to scrape out a living talking into a toy microphone next to the Overture Center.

As he continued that day's set, a dark skinned man in a bright lab coat and glasses walked by, whistling a jaunty tune. He turned and looked at Cecil with fear-no, concern-in his dark eyes. He stopped and set his backpack down, digging through it and eventually pulling out a sandwich covered in plastic wrap. The man then began walking back towards him.

Cecil frowned. Did he look like he needed pity-sandwiches?

But somehow his narrative had wound its way to the handsome stranger. "He grinned, and everything about him was perfect," the man handed him the sandwich and Cecil found himself locking eyes with him and saying in a deep, intense voice, "and I fell in love instantly."

The stranger squeaked, and his eyes widened, and he scurried away in a panic. Which was, of course, when Cecil noticed how unspeakably perfect his hair was. It was all fluffy and fun, and gah, this just wasn't fair. There had to be some kind of a law against being that attractive. Cecil picked up the sandwich and looked at it for a single long moment before groaning internally.

Holy fucking hell. Had he really just said, looking straight into Hot Stranger's eyes, "and I fell in love instantly"? What the fuck was the matter with him? Now the guy probably thought he was some kind of stalker. Which he wasn't but even if the guy came back, he probably wouldn't, but even if he did, Cecil was going to have a hell of a time convincing him otherwise.

Cecil sighed heavily and continued with his narrative. At least the sandwich looked good. That was the one high point of his sorry existence.

***

The sandwich was delicious, but that was hardly the point.

***

Cecil was rage incarnate. Carlos, perfect, perfect, Carlos, (because that was his name, he'd noticed it on the lapel of his lab coat the second time he'd passed that way and honestly, what good was a degree in investigative journalism if you couldn't even read a nametag?) had cut his hair so very short. So very, very short.

It wasn't even like it was any of Cecil's business, but then it was because it wasn't even a good haircut and why, why for the love of all that was holy, did he get his hair cut? Cecil wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the fact that he'd kind of been waxing rhapsodic about it for the last few days. 

Nah, couldn't be.

He couldn't even fathom why someone would agree to cut such luscious hair, until he found out who the culprit was. 

Telly. It was that traitorous Telly.

Cecil had never particularly liked the barber, but this was stepping over the line. This was definitely stepping over the line. But again, it wasn't as if it was any of his business.

He'd been sitting on the sidewalk, going through traffic for a small crowd of onlookers when he'd noticed a familiar figure passing by.

It took Cecil a moment to place him, with his hair cut so short. But it was definitely the scientist. Cecil gripped his microphone, his knuckles turning white, and he glowered. Carlos threw him a defiant look as he passed by. 

That only served to fan the flames of his wrath. It was one thing to e an innocent victim of a horrible haircut, but another thing entirely to deliberately seek out someone to cut your hair badly to spite an innocent sidewalk radio performer. Quite a different thing indeed. 

"And now," he said, through gritted teeth, gesturing to indicate the girl standing behind him, "I give you our special guest Dana Cardinal, and with her, the weather."

Dana came in on the violin, and Cecil took that time to breathe in and out deeply, closing his eyes and attempting to get his persona back. He was fairly certain he looked like an idiot at that point, but who really cared? Not him. Certainly not him.

Dana's violin solo ended, and his eyes opened, a smile on his face, and practically purred, "Listeners, I have some unfortunate news." He then launched into an immaculately worded, completely calm tirade about Telly the barber. Cecil finished with his customary "Good night, Night Vale, good night," and turned around to see Dana looking at him, wide eyed and wordless. 

"What?" he asked, raising one pale eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" she asked cautiously, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

Cecil made a face. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Dana tilted her head. "Well, you kind of did just roast that barber guy in front of about 30 people. That's a bit out of the ordinary."

"I'm fine. Fine! Why wouldn't I be fine?"

She rolled her eyes and began putting away her violin. "If you say so, but something's going on with you, Cecil." She tipped her newsboy cap at him and winked, then began walking away. "And I'm going to find out what it is."

***

And then the next day, he ran into Carlos at the local grocery store. He was in the produce section, inspecting the greens, when the scientist rounded the corner of the cereal aisle.

Cecil panicked, then ducked down behind a stack of boxes, praying to whatever god might be listening that he hadn't been seen.

A moment later, a piece of spinach fell onto his pale hair. He opened his eyes and looked to see Carlos crouching next to him. Cecil brushed the spinach away and stared at Carlos for a long moment, lips slightly parted.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "I might ask you the same question," he replied. "Why are we hiding behind boxes full of lettuce?"

Cecil shot up, dusting off his knees and looking at his shoes. "Well, this has been fun. I"ll see you around, then." He waved and started off down the produce aisle as quickly as he could.

"Hey!" Carlos hissed, but Cecil kept walking. "Hey, wait up! I want to talk to you a minute."

A moment later, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and brought him to a halt. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"I wanted to ask you why you," he paused, hesitating. "Why you do what you do."

Cecil tilted his head. "Why I sit on the sidewalk making up stories for complete strangers? I'm good at it, I guess. It pays the rent."

"And are you always so...enthusiastic about it? That is, do you always bring outside people into it?"

He shrugged. "That's what makes it interesting, poking fun at other people. Not," he backpedaled, "that I was poking fun at you or making fun of gay people, because, you know, I actually am gay that that would just be counterintuitive and oh, god, please stop me, I'm rambling."

Carlos held in a laugh. "Okay, that was the most awkward coming out I think I've ever seen."

Cecil held his head in his hands. "That was so utterly embarrassing. Please just kill me now."

That time Carlos did laugh, and Cecil fell in love a little more. "You're fine," he said, then frowned. "I don't think I actually know your name."

"Cecil," he supplied.

Carlos grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and if Cecil's knees turned to jelly, no one but him had to know that.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That was...interesting, was it not? Thank for you for reading, and come visit me at my tumblr, thewanderingreveur.tumblr.com!


End file.
